What's in a Name?
by White Phantom
Summary: The chronicles of an elven girl as she grows up, wandering through Thedas without having a place in it.
1. Chapter 1: Foundling

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age or any of its characters._

_A/N: This story follows an OC, though there will be brief appearances from characters within both Dragon Age games._

…-…

My first memory is of a dragon's roar. I don't have any recollection of the beast itself. No flashes of talons or scales or teeth.

Just a single, reverberating wail that reached inside of me and shook me to my core.

_You are alone._

That was what it said and so, little as I was, that was all I could think. It was my absolute truth.

The memories that follow are hazy and dreamlike. I know it would have been impossible for me to be on my own as young as I was, barely able to walk. There had to have been someone who cared for me, found food for me. Yet if there was, they are lost to me.

It is better this way, I think.

Perhaps that is just what I say to fend off the bitterness that comes with solitude. Regardless, there are many days where I can actually believe it. And it is not as though I have never known another's company or sat with a companion around the edge of a fire.

As I said, my earliest memories are a blurry dream. I remember rain and sun, trees and leaves, a little stream with large rocks that I liked to lay on, soaking up the warmth of the day. I don't remember ever eating, but I know I must have.

My most vivid recollection from so long ago is of one night when the stars came down to dance on the water. They flitted and hummed softly, and I chased the makeshift constellations, dancing through them and watching in awe as one or two landed on my arm, their little legs prickling my skin.

I didn't know the words for the Golden City or the Maker, but I didn't need to. I was already in my paradise.

And then the stars went out.

I remember reaching toward the little black things that had replaced them. I was too slow, though, and they disappeared into the trees overhead, leaving me bound to the earth.

Even as I lowered my hands, I heard a soft, incredulous laugh from somewhere nearby. Turning, I stared wide-eyed at a creature that I had never seen before, aside from the occasional glimpse of that other girl who peered up from the stream at me.

The woman—I knew no such words then, but if I were to use my childhood wisdom to record these early events and that woman, there would be nothing I could write that would make sense to another—was thin and dirty. Her hair was in wild tangles with twigs poking out and the long robe she wore was torn and stained red in several places.

We stared at one another for several minutes before she slowly stepped further into the moonlight. She spoke to me in a strained voice, her eyes constantly moving to every shadow, expecting something. If I'd ever heard the human tongue before—any language, really—it had been with as much comprehension as I had then. The sounds she made tumbled out and cluttered my ears, and I might as well have been listening to the birds chatter at me.

I just watched her, as I did the stars and leaves and water. Finally, it dawned on her that I had no clue what she was saying. With a soft hiss, she appraised me and then hurried off, deeper into my woods.

From then on, I was not alone. She was a curiosity I'd never seen, and I took great pleasure in our game of hide and seek. At first, she would hurry off the second I slipped into sight, leaving a clumsy trail through the underbrush that was easy for me to follow. However, as time went on, she began to grow accustomed to my presence and would barely even look up when I wandered into her camps.

In retrospect, I suppose she'd accepted me as a part of the woods. Perhaps she even understood that I was less a guest to her than she was to me.

One night, I found her huddled beneath a tree as the rain dripped heavily though the leaves, the wind tossing the canopy about so that the cracks in the darkness bathed even the forest floor in flashes of light.

She was shivering—another thing I cannot remember is being cold, ever—and, realizing that the water bothered her, I reached out and tapped her robe. I had always assumed it was made of leaves, as I'd never seen cloth before, and it felt so strange beneath my touch. Regardless, it got her attention. I tried to mimic the sounds I'd heard her make, willing my intent into the meaningless string of syllables. Then, when I was confident that I'd made enough of a ruckus, I made my way slowly through the frantic, twisting forest.

Every now and then, I would stop to peer back. She would be there, clutching herself and her bag as she stumbled through the downpour. There was a small alcove carved into the side of a hill near my stream, and I brought her there. There, the wind had difficulty worming its way into the crevices. It was likely the most dry spot in the entire wood.

We sat there through most of the night. At first, she just stared at me in a disbelieving stupor, but finally, she turned her gaze out to the storm.

I left her as soon as it quieted down, her head resting against her shoulder and the stone behind her.

It was a few days before I sought her out in our game again. When I found her, she had been waiting for me. he twittered away, her voice still so foreign to me, and I listened, enjoying the rise and fall of her intonation.

Then she paused and held out what looked like a miniature version of her own clothes. I had tried putting a few leaves over myself since our first meeting, but I could not find a way to keep them in place and had abandoned the idea fairly quickly.

But this...

She had made me an outfit.

I do believe I provided quite the entertainment trying to figure out how to don the thing, for she laughed at me before finally waving me over to her and helping me into it.

It had been so foreign a feeling to have cloth against my skin. The woman had held the bottom hem of the outfit—it came down to my knees and was a little loose—and spoke. At first, I thought it was her usual chirping, but then I realized that she was making the same sounds over and over, trying to convey meaning.

_Dress._

That was my first word.

My next words were all disjointed things: tree, bird, hand, leaf, human, elf, and so on.

It was exciting to learn these words and to be able to truly talk with something. To exchange ideas. Though I did find it puzzling as to why the sounds _she_ made up got to be the names for things while the ones I invented were written off as gibberish, it was fun.

When I got so I could understand a decent amount of what she said, she told me I was a quick learner. I was more than a little proud and considered myself truly a master at our games.

She shared her meals with me, and I found myself staying at her camps for longer and longer times. No longer did I retreat into the forest when I grew weary. Instead, I would curl up beside her fire.

During our time together, I learned to call her Beatrice. Though she asked me for a name, I never took any time to make one for myself. So instead, she called me Foundling. It was not my name, but it was as good as any other word, and so I learned to come when I heard her calling.

She would brush and braid my hair as she told me stories, and I was happier each day that I understood a little more of what she was saying.

I have...never been good with time. My minutes, hours, days, and years blur together, and I cannot tell how long any single adventure might last, let alone my age—even an estimate is beyond me.

I can say that Beatrice had to adjust the seams of my dress twice while I was with her.

I had never noticed myself growing before that ,and it was another discovery to rejoice over. I asked her once, in my broken and slurred manner of speech, if I might one day grow as tall as a tree. Beatrice had giggled and told me, "Maybe...if it is a little tree."

On one evening, I woke to find Beatrice gone from our camp. It was easy for me to follow her trail—while I was learning so much, she seemed to change little in our time together and was ever tripping her way through the underbrush—and when I came across her, I found her sitting with an old book opened in front of her, whispering softly. In front of her, just above the book, was an image like the reflection of a stream's surface. Wavering constantly, it reflected pictures of a foreign wood, with creatures like us wandering it in dresses made of the stars themselves, they were so shiny.

Beatrice startled when I stepped up beside her. The image vanished. Even as I slipped up to where it had been and peeked around, waving my hand in the air to see if it too would vanish, it didn't dawn on me that my friend had become oddly quiet. When I looked back at her, her expression was guarded. It reminded me of the first time we'd met, when she'd turned the stars black.

"Where them people gone?"

She hesitated, appraising me carefully. Finally, after what could have been a minute or an eternity, she tilted her head. "You're not...afraid?"

I remember staring at her blankly. "Of what?"

"Me?"

"Why?"

She just smiled and pulled me into her lap, hugging me. As she patted my hair, I wanted to wiggle free and try to find where that image had gone, but when I looked up, Beatrice was crying. I couldn't leave her.

From then on, she used her magic more openly around me. Sometimes, she made little lights that mimicked the stars, and I would twirl through them. Other times, she would make other images appear. They were always of those shiny people.

"You have a good heart," she would tell me, and she would point to the place where it hid in my chest. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

While I didn't know what an 'anyone' was, it still made me happy when she said that.

My dress was beginning to get tight for the third time when we were finally found. I'd been on my way to the stream when I saw a glimmer of light through the trees. It wasn't dark enough for the stars to be out, so I assumed that it was Beatrice.

I'd nearly run out into plain sight when I realized that what I was seeing was not some conjured spell, but people. They were just like the shining creatures—men, Beatrice had said once, and templars she's spat another time—from the images. As I listened to them murmur, I could barely catch any of what they said, they spoke so soft and fast.

They sounded mean, though. That was the only reason I didn't come out of hiding to meet them. Instead, I slipped back through the forest—Beatrice always complimented how quiet I could be, though I knew that there were other things in that wood that could be far more stealthy—and found her at our camp.

"They here."

Before I could even clarify, Beatrice was on her feet. She shoved what she could reach into her small rucksack, eyes almost glowing with an animosity I'd never seen before.

"How many?"

I struggled to remember the numbers she'd been teaching me, but I was so startled by her anger that I merely stuttered a few incoherent sounds.

"How many of them are there?" There was an edge to her voice I didn't like. She seemed to notice my unease and tried to calm down. "They are bad people. You have a good heart, but they don't. They will hurt us." She nodded her head as she reached a hand out to me. "Did you see how many?"

I tried to visualize in my head and then held up two fingers. Beatrice nodded to herself and then grabbed my hand. Her grip was too tight, and I yelped, though a harsh glare from her silenced me.

As she dragged me into the woods, I realized too late that we were turning around—she'd never been very good at navigating the forest, even though I'd tried to teach her—and I tried to warn her. She shushed me and kept going. I tried again, her panic infecting my mind, and she struck me, saying that if I spoke again, I'd regret it.

She was not Beatrice anymore, but something else. Something that scared me.

It was inevitable that we would run into those men with the path we were taking, but it still seemed like it took an eternity, with my breath catching at every sound that had always been so natural around me before.

Their shouts caught us both off guard. Beatrice broke out into a run, dragging me after her. Branches and rocks that had never given me pause scraped harshly against my skin and tore my dress.

For the first time, I truly understood what fear was.

They cornered us near the alcove by the stream. At first, the men seemed surprised to see she wasn't alone. Even as I stared at them, wondering what it was about them that made Beatrice so different, she drew me to her, in front of her. I felt something sharp against my throat and froze, barely allowing myself to breathe.

She yelled something at them, and one of them faltered. His reply was in a strained voice, though there was kindness there. I suspected that he had stolen that from Beatrice and instantly hated him for it.

As they snapped back and forth, I couldn't keep up. My pride in my speech waned, as it dawned on me that Beatrice had simplified her words when talking to me.

Finally, the other man spat on the ground. "What do I care if she kills some knife-ear?"

I can still hear his voice. Then, I didn't know half of those words, but he'd said it with such venom that I instantly had every syllable committed to memory.

Beatrice relaxed her grip on the blade at my throat and leaned forward to whisper in my ear, "You're a good girl."

I finally managed to tear my gaze away from the men to look up at her. She was crying. She smiled a little, and I felt all the terror of that day draining away.

Before I could reply that I thought she was good, too, she drew her hand away. At the same time, she gripped me hard about the waist. I didn't understand what was happening until her hand—the one with the knife—came slamming down, forcing the blade into my chest, to the spot she always pointed at when she told me about my good heart.

The men shouted, Beatrice hissed out a slur of words, and red danced before my blurring gaze.


	2. Chapter 2: Lost Girl

I don't remember what I dreamt about or even when my dreams shifted back into reality.

I woke up, though, to feel the warmth of a fire tickling my skin. It never occurred to me that Beatrice's betrayal could have been a bad dream. Over the years, I've seen so many people wake up convinced that whatever horror had befallen them had all been some ill-conceived conjuring of their subconscious. I have never had that luxury.

I've always known that my nightmares are real.

When I woke up, I knew that wherever I was, whoever's fire I lay beside, it was not hers. My mind had raced to the shining men, and I had rolled quickly off my back and into a couch. Whatever they were, they had drained away Beatrice, leaving only an angry husk behind, and I was determined not to let them get me.

However, neither of our pursuers were there.

Instead, it was another woman, one I'd never seen before. So many foreign things were happening to me that it was overwhelming. My vision blurred a little. I lost my balance, one knee thudding into the grass below.

The woman laughed. It was an eerie sound, not at all comforting like Beatrice's had been. But then, her laugh had been a lie.

"If I was of a mind to kill you, I wouldn't have wasted my time healing you to begin with." A carefree mirth danced in her eyes as mine came into focus. "Though now I must wonder how you fell into your circumstances when you've such a light foot. Perhaps you could not keep up with the dance?" She laughed again.

"Where...?" Even as she arched an eyebrow, never taking her eyes off of me, I glanced around. Sure enough, we were alone. "Where they go?"

"The templars or the blood mage?"

I blinked at her, not really following. As I remembered Beatrice using the first label once before, the woman rummaged through a bag nestled at her side and drew out a loaf of bread. Breaking off a piece, she held it out to me. I made no move to take it. I wanted there to be distance between us. My mistake with Beatrice had been that I'd closed that distance.

"Where Beatrice?"

"Dead."

I paused. "Where that?"

The woman eyed me and then tossed me the bread. I let it thud into the ground near my foot. Ever curious, she finally said, "Gone. You won't see her again."

I rubbed my chest, remembering the pain that had so quickly enveloped my senses. It had drown out the screams, blurred away the colors, and left me floating in darkness. However, not even an echo of it remained. As I peeked down at my chest—an unladylike thing, Beatrice had once said, though I suddenly doubted every bit of her advice—and found that where she had hurt me was a short, thick, coarse line of skin that protruded up, almost black on my brown skin.

"I suppose I could have mended it fully," the woman mused, tearing off a bit of bread for herself and picking at it thoughtfully, "but the scar would still be there, even if you couldn't see it. You'll always feel it."

"Did the men go away, too?"

She paused. "The templars? Yes. One left with your Beatrice for the great beyond, and the other limped back to town." She mulled it over. "I shouldn't have let him leave the forest, but I didn't want to draw too much attention to myself."

The woman seemed quite content to eat without me, and I finally leaned down and picked up the bread. As I dusted it off and flicked away the few bugs already crawling across its surface, I thought back to all the times I'd spent with Beatrice, to all the meals we'd share, much like this one. "Why she turn mean?"

"Many people do when cornered," the woman said, resting her hands in her lap so that they cupped her meal. "Tell me, what do you remember? Of her fight with the templars?"

"She hurt me," I whispered. "We... she was friend. Then she hurt me."

For a moment, the woman's humor crumbled, and she looked like she might cry. It passed in an instant, a strange coldness taking its place. "Its best you learn young: betrayals are far too common. If a stranger cuts you, it will take time, but it will heal. If a loved one does it, it can destroy you so much easier than any assassin's arrow."

I didn't understand most of her words, but the sentiment behind them was conveyed so easily on her face. I looked toward the bread in my hands. "Are you gonna hurt me?"

"Likely, yes, at some point." She pointed to the bread. "It won't be this evening, though."

I sat where I was and took a few bites as she resumed her own meal. After a time, she rummaged into her bag again. "I've some cheese, if you'd like."

I edged close enough that if she stretched she could hand it to me, but made sure that I could get up and scurry out of reach if need be. As I did so, I realized that there were no trees nearby. In the distance, I could see a dark line of them, standing tall and proud. However, there was a long ways between me and my sanctuary.

"Tell me, little one, if you've no mind to scamper off, what do you plan next?" When I didn't reply, she asked, simply, "What do you want?"

"To not hurt," I replied without hesitation. I wanted to go back to my time before Beatrice, but I didn't think I could ever forget her.

She laughed. "Don't we all." With a pause she looked at me. "The real question is, where will you go?" When I blinked, she motioned toward the forest. "We are close to the Tevinter border. No doubt your Beatrice was heading there for sanctuary before she was cornered by the Templars. If you are found by the Anderfels, you'll be shipped off to an Alienage, where they pack the people so closely that they can't turn around without bumping into each other, and the sunshine can barely reach you through the smog and low buildings..." she paused. "Or so I've been told."

I think she knew that I couldn't understand much of what she said, but she kept talking. "If you are picked up by the Tevinter, you'll be sold into slavery. Never again will your choices be yours. All for those pretty little ears of yours..." She paused and brushed her hair back behind her own. They were round, like Beatrice's had been. For the first time, I reached up and really felt my own ears. The difference was quiet clear, even without being able to see them.

She watched me. "Your best bet would be the Dalish, but they don't dare come this close to Tevinter, so there's no rescue to be had from them."

While I didn't know much, I understood the basics of what she was asking. "So I go to a place without trees, a place without me, or a place I can't go?" When she laughed and then nodded, cocked my head. "Why I have to go anywhere?"

"Because no one can ever stand still." She was watching me again. "So where will you go?"

I had never imagined anything beyond my forest. It had always been my world, and I didn't like the thought of the options she had presented me. I couldn't help but think that I wouldn't have had to face such a choice if Beatrice hadn't been there. I frowned. "Why she hurt me?"

"You think I know?" When I simply stared at her, the woman eyed me critically. "I've an idea, if you care to listen." For once, I'd understood everything she'd said. She pointed a finger out into the darkness. "I'm going to the Wilds far, far south from here. If you can keep up, you can walk with me a ways."

I eyed her, munching quietly on a small bit of cheese. "You won't hurt me?"

"Not unless I have to."

"Why you have to?"

She shrugged. "You assume I know everything that will happen in the future?"

"What that?"

The woman cackled to herself. "So much to teach. This will be good for us both. Perhaps I won't be too glib with my next daughter." She drummed her fingers against her bread, talking on. "I'm to have a babe in the next year or so. You may stay with me until she's old enough to remember you. Then you'll have to go."

I thought about it for a moment. Part of me wanted to say no, to go back to the days when I was alone and happy. But then, I already thought less of Beatrice while I was around this woman. And she was honest. While Beatrice had hidden so many things, this woman seemed oddly open.

Even with all of that, my chest hurt, though not in the same way as when I had seen red. It was still sharp, though. And this woman had admitted she would hurt me eventually.

Just as I stood to tell her no, one of my beloved stars blinked into existence near us. It flitted over, dancing around me first, and then it wandered the short distance to her, pausing to rest on her outstretched hand so that it's light looked conjured. As if on cue, others began to appear.

I decided then and there: if the stars could trust her, so could I.

~"~

We traveled together for a time that I sometimes consider the best years of my life. I'm almost certain it was several years, anyway. We avoided roads and people, keeping our world simple. On occasion the shining men would appear, but she would always tell me to split up and then somehow one of us would find the other later, the men forgotten.

She didn't need my warnings, but unlike Beatrice, if I gave them, she listened.

She taught me words and ideas and always let me form my own opinions. It was important to have one's own and to understand that they can never be given, she'd said.

She also taught me other important things: how to tell north from south, how to read the stars that didn't dance with us, which roots and herbs could be used to help or hinder.

We played games, too. Keep away, mostly. She told me that to not be hurt, I had to stay one step ahead. She also told me that sometimes, it was worth it to be hurt, though she'd quickly laughed and said I likely didn't understand her ramblings. But I did. She was going to hurt me one day, but I easily counted it worth it, with all that she was teaching me.

She could use magic, like Beatrice. However, she said her magic was older, stronger. I asked if she could teach me, but she'd just patted my head and said there would be no teaching what could not be taught.

She expanded my vocabulary rapidly, as though to make up for that.

She'd been teaching me how to sew when she finally had her child. The babe was so little and precious when the woman returned with her and as she took my hand, she whispered, "You must pay closer attention henceforth. Our paths will not be the same for much longer."

As she cared for the baby, never letting me touch the child, even though I would have loved to hold her, she impressed upon me basic skills: boiling water, building campfires, sewing and mending clothes, patching up scrapes and bruises, gutting rabbits, and sharpening blades.

"If I thought you old enough to set a bone," she'd begun once, looking most remorseful. The mood had quickly passed, as did all her emotions, save careful amusement. "I am sure you will manage. You did so before knowing these things."

As I sat there, attentive, I noticed the babe was sitting up and staring at me. The woman noticed as well and frowned. "Tonight will be our last night together. I can't let Morrigan remember you. Having her endeared to another would only complicate matters unnecessarily."

I didn't reply. I had sensed this coming for some time, but even so, I was sure that if I opened my mouth to speak, I would cry instead.

She dug through one of her bags and produced a knife. It was smaller than most, but still large in my hands. For an instant, I was afraid that it was finally time for her to bring harm to me. However, she flipped the dagger through the air and then held out its handle to me. She then handed me a sheath and a small bag with herbs and the like that we had gathered together. "Practice taking that out quickly and remember to stay alert and fast. As you get older, men will take notice of you. Remember that most anyone you meet deep into nowhere means no good."

"I met _you_ in nowhere."

"And I am a wicked, wicked witch."

That was the first time she had actually ever referred to herself as anything. It banished any doubt that our dance had come to an end. The songs were changing, as she would say.

We said good night as though everything was as it had always been. In the morning, I awoke to mist creeping over a campsite that looked as though it hadn't been used in ages.

Once again, I was alone.


	3. Chapter 3: Forest

_A/N: Thank you for reading, and for the review Pikahopp! I would tell you when she gets an official name, but that's sort of a spoiler. It will happen eventually though! The next few chapters should kind of explain why I picked the title I did, though._

_That said, feedback is always appreciated. If you think I skip over certain details that you'd rather see or that I spend too much time on other scenes, let me know. While I do have my first book coming out this month (you can check my profile for info), there's always more that can be learned in writing. That's partially why I love it so much._

_So, yes! I hope you enjoy!_

…-…

It seemed appropriate that I not continue south after she left me. After all, our paths had split and I was certain that if I continued the way we'd been going that I would grow weak and try to find her at some point. With all we had shared and all she had done for me, it hardly seemed fair to her that I break my promise.

It never occurred to me that I wouldn't have found her anyway.

Instead, I headed north. I avoided open spaces when possible, mostly because I simply preferred the whisper of the wind through the leaves as my accompaniment.

Since my time with her, I was more aware of everything. Of the passing of night and day—even if I couldn't keep track of how many passed over me. I noticed the animals that prowled the forest and I somehow think that it wasn't until after her that they began to notice me, odd as that may sound.

Most of all, though, I noticed the people.

At first, I avoided them, always slipping through the shadows around their campsites or slipping into bushes to avoid them as they passed me by. However, as time dragged on—it had never done so before—I began to miss the woman and her conversations. I missed Beatrice, too, though it always hurt beneath my scar when I thought of her. The woman had been right, the wound wouldn't likely ever heal.

I began to follow people. At first it was just to hear their voices, just enough to chase off that loneliness that had been twisted into a curse. When that was not enough, I would stumble into their camps. Many would shoo me away or try to catch me—I was always too fast and too familiar with the area for them to be successful—but every now and then I'd find someone who enjoyed the simplicity of a conversation. Sometimes I even traveled with them for a day or two. Our paths always parted, however, when they turned their attentions toward towns.

There was a mystic nature to those distant, angular shapes on the horizon. Houses and the like. The woman and I had always avoided them, though she had told me that was where most people dwelled. Somehow, it seemed frightening to think of going into them without her there to warn me to whatever dangers might be there.

So I remained in the woods. After one encounter with an untrustworthy sort whom I had to kick in the chin to escape from, I managed to haul myself up into a tree—I'd always been too small to reach before—and I instantly found out why the stars had always flown into them.

My world was opened up tenfold. No longer tied to the earth, I taught myself how to swing from branch to branch with the same grace that I had darted about on the ground. I learned to run the sturdier tree limbs and how to feel for when the branches were ready to snap.

I could go for days without touching the ground.

The novelty of it might have worn off, given time, had the forest continued forever.

Like everything else, however, forever eluded it.

To say that the forest ended abruptly would be somewhat of an understatement. And not entirely truthful. Some fences stretched into the tree-line, claiming parts of the forest itself for the great stone buildings that stood not a breath away. I doubt the trees gave a whit about their rulers, though, as their roots had already begun to dismantle the stone bases, casting the humans' claim to them aside as though it were a trifle.

I had been running across the branches, spending my energy well so that I would sleep equally so, when the world opened up and I barely had time to cling to one of the branches I'd been rushing past. The branch snapped from the momentum, though it wasn't enough to completely break it off. It swung down awkwardly and it was all I needed to be able to catch hold of another branch and swing back up.

I could barely make out shapes through the leaves—shapes I'd never seen so close—when I heard a sharp cry, followed by a voice that was higher pitched than I was accustomed to.

"Come down!"

I peered through the tree branches to meet a brilliant green gaze, glaring. My eyes widened and I slipped down a few more branches. A boy stood at the bottom of the tree, rubbing his head. A few leaves and twigs still rested in his soft red-brown hair.

His eyes widened when he could get a clearer view of me. However, I hardly noticed his surprise. Even without being told, I knew he was like me. His skin had that same copper tone to it and his ears...they were longer than the human ears I was so used to seeing. Long and pointed. I felt my own ear as I stared down at his, as though to make sure I hadn't changed.

I quietly slipped to the ground and stood in front of him. He was just a little taller than I was.

"I thought you were Varania," he whispered, a startled, mystified expression on his face.

"I'm not."

"I can tell," he murmured, brow furrowing. "Who are—"

"Leto! Varania!" An older voice called from somewhere beyond the trees. I peered past the boy in front of me to see the building. An elven woman stood a few paces outside of the oddest yawning cave I'd ever seen. That woman had told me once that houses and doors and windows, and I wondered which of those that opening would be considered.

Something rustled in the bushes a few yards from us and another elf—a girl—popped up, a triumphant grin on her pale features. Her hair was redder than Leto's, but they looked similar. A family, then, as my mentor had taught me. "Ha! You didn't find me! I win!"

Her smile faded when she saw me.

For a moment, the three of us just stood there, as though time had forgotten us. I don't think I would have minded if it did. However, the older elf called their names again. Varania darted up and caught Leto by the hand, dragging him away from me without a word. He offered me a small half wave before turning around and pulling free from Varania. The two darted across the grass and the older woman ushered them inside, her voice a gentle hum drowned out by the rustle of the leaves as the wind wound its way through the trees.

I felt like I was looking into another world. I wandered along the tree-line for a little while that night, taking in the different buildings. They were so...novel. The way wood and stone had been bent into something so different...I was in awe.

While I did wind my way back into the wood to find something to eat—no small feat considering the locals had picked the area clean—when I went to sleep, it was in the tree with the broken branch, where I had first met the boy. Leto.

I woke up to the feeling of my branch shaking and jolted up, stopping just short of thwacking my head against something leaning over me.

Not something, someone.

Leto.

He was braced clumsily against my branch and the tree's trunk, looking ready to fall at any minute. I gasped.

And then I heard Varania from the base of the tree. "Leto! Leave that Dalish girl alone!"

I was too surprised to really react, though I managed to whisper, "I'm not Dalish."

"She's not Dalish!" Leto yelled back at her, right in my ear. He barely managed to catch himself when he lost his balance and the only reason we didn't go tumbling down together was because I slipped out from under him and to the nearest limb before he could land on me. Varania let out a squeak, but Leto managed to catch himself and regained his footing after a bit of a struggle. He eyed me, impressed with my speed. "You do seem like you'd be Dalish, though."

I shrugged.

"Wanna play?"

I'd never had someone my age to play with. It had always been adults and more oft than not, I had always lost to them and their rules. It was an enticing offer to be able to play with someone like myself.

I remembered the woman's words about being hurt and wondered if such rules applied to children as well.

Leto was holding a hand out to me. His eyes were so earnest and that smile...

I took his hand.

It became a regular occurrence that we would play together in that sprawling backyard. We ran about the bases of the trees, swung from the branches, and dared each other to see how high we could climb. I always won the last one. On days that it rained, they insisted that I come inside to play with them, though it became clear quickly that I was out of my element there. I could not find my way through their maze of a home and often they had to tug me back so that I wouldn't get into the way of the adults—humans and elves alike. The humans always sported such fickle expressions when they saw us. One of them called us knife-ears and I instantly hated them.

Their mother would read them stories and sometimes let me stay with them in their tight quarters overnight. Varania didn't seem to enjoy my company very much, though, so instead I focused on Leto.

I think their mother was the first one to call me Forest Girl and then just Forest. It quickly spread and in no time all the elves called me that. Only once did one of the humans take notice and he merely grunted when he heard it, saying that elves were foolish in their naming conventions.

I thought he was foolish. I rather liked being known for my relations to those wild woods.

The more we played together, the more Varania found reasons to play by herself. I didn't really mind. She wasn't as fast as Leto and me, anyway and when she was around, Leto was always backtracking to make sure she didn't get lost. If Leto was bothered that it became just the two of us, he never said anything.

In fact, only once did he bring up his sister when she wasn't present and that was just to say, "I wish she liked you."

When I asked why she didn't, he'd just shrugged it off and we went back to running about on make believe adventures. I found that I liked Leto's games more than the adult games I'd played before. Rather than making sure he couldn't catch me or finding each other in the woods, we pretended that things were there that weren't. Monsters and demons, we fought, saving the manor from all kinds of evil. Heroes, Leto called us.

I had grown accustomed to being a hero, to sprawling out in the lawn when we were too tired to run any longer and watching the clouds drift overhead.

But then, like everything else in this world, our world could not stay static.

My hair had been growing and it caught in a few branches as I swung around a tree trunk, following Leto's instructions to flank our imaginary dragon. He'd just learned about such 'tactical maneuvers' from one of the older elves in the manor and had insisted that as heroes we should know how to do that.

When my hair caught, I lost my momentum and thudded into the ground, letting out a soft cry as I crunched my knee against an exposed root. Leto was at my side in an instant. Despite trying to wave him away, he insisted on helping me back to the manor. One of the other elves clucked her tongue at my 'wild' look, but cleaned and bandaged my knee all the same.

When my knee was tended to, I tried to get up to go—I was used to the occasional bump and bruise, so it was nothing I couldn't overcome on my own—but the elven woman caught my shoulder and made me sit while she brushed out my hair. I tried to tell her to just cut it, but somehow she was dead set against it, saying that I had such pretty hair that it would be a waste.

Leto came back when she was just about done and he kept staring at me oddly. He'd brought me one of the sweets that his mother got us on rare occasion. He said it would make my knee feel better as he gave it to me and finally reached out to pull a few locks of my hair gently. "You look pretty." His cheeks flushed. "Your hair is, I mean."

I stared at the strands of amber in his hand, nonplussed. "It's a pain is what it is."

"Well, you can just take care of it better."

"I will," I mumbled as we left the elven woman to her work and headed back outside. I made sure to call out a thank you before we were out the doorway. I heard her laugh in the distance. "I'll cut it this evening."

"Why?" Leto sounded distraught.

"Because I don't want to get caught in the trees again." It seemed like such an obvious answer. After all, he'd been there when it happened.

"Maybe you could just...not swing in the trees so much."

"What good would that do me?" I groused.

Leto stared at me for a long moment, frown in place. Finally, he held his pinky out to me. "Don't cut it today. Promise."

I didn't see the point, but I promised and he took my pinky and linked it with his. Then, he disappeared into the house. I mulled about the edge of the backyard waiting for him to come back, testing my knee to see how much weight I could put on it and how fast I could move without causing too much pain. The bandage seemed more of a restriction than anything else, but I left it.

I'd sprawled out among some tree roots in a nook I was sure no one would notice me in and was just drifting off to sleep when I heard Leto calling out.

When I found him, he looked flustered, but proud. Almost as soon as he saw me, he thrust his hands forward, presenting me with a long, white piece of cloth. When I reached out and took it, he beamed.

"It's a ribbon for your hair. Now you don't have to cut it."

When I just kind of stood there dumbly, he slipped around behind me and I felt his fingers in my hair. I started to turn after him, but he stopped me. "My sister makes me braid her hair sometimes." He sounded embarrassed.

After a short-lived argument, I let him braid my hair. He tied the end with the ribbon and then stood back. When I pulled the braid over my shoulder, I tilted my head. I'd seen bows in other people's hair before, but it had always eluded me as to how it had been done. Since I hadn't seen him tie it, it was equally spectacular and I ran my fingers over the fine, silky loop.

"It looks good on you." His eyes were on the forest floor between us.

"Thank you."

"I have to go."

After he'd hurried home, without once looking back, I stood there a moment longer, admiring the gift. However, when I darted into the tree branches, deciding that perhaps I would sleep out of reach tonight after all, it caught on a twig and slipped off. I was mortified as I saw it hanging there.

Quickly I snatched it free, feeling an instant twinge of guilt that there was a small hole in the fabric already.

I slept with the ribbon balled up in my hands that night, determined to get Leto to redo it in the morrow and to show me so that I could do it, too.

He didn't come back the next day.

Nor the day after.

Finally I grew tired of waiting for him, half fearful that it was some sort of magic at work, that I had assured he would never come play with me again because I had damaged so precious a gift. I tried to go look for him, but all of the doors to the manor were locked.

Going back into the woods, I spent the next day figuring out how to loop the ribbon about. I knew how to make a knot and at last I settled for that, clumping my messy hair together over my shoulder so that I could tie it all together. That done, I went back to look for Leto.

The door was still locked, but the window was an easy jump—I'd been scolded before for using it as an entrance, but times were dire and I was careful to listen so that no one would be around when I did so. Once I was in, I found that none of the other elves greeted me warmly. In fact, most of the ones who acknowledged me at all told me I needed to go home.

It was a puzzle that I didn't want to solve.

Finally, the woman who had bandaged by knee—it had started to hurt again—pulled me into a side room. She fussed at me for a moment before fretfully dragging me down the hall and into the room she'd tended to my knee before. She took off all the earlier bandages and replaced them, all the while constantly looking toward the door, like she was afraid someone would see her helping me.

"You have to go back to your master's. Don't come here again." I stared at her, uncomprehending. "They...they are punishing us for what your friend did and it will only get worse if they find an elf who doesn't belong. Go home."

"What did Leto do?"

"He stole from our master's apprentice." She paused abruptly, eyes on my ribbon. I followed her gaze and paled.

I tried to pull it free, but I was too good at tying knots. "I'll give it back."

"I don't think it matters now," the elf murmured, looking pityingly at me. "Shem bitch never even used it anyway. It's no wonder he thought he could take it for you..." She patted my hair, sighing as she realized it was already tangling again. "Now go home."

She hurried from the room, not looking back. However, even as I sat there, confused, I saw Varania in the doorway. She glared at me hatefully. "You killed him!" Tears pricked her eyes. "You killed Leto!"

I stared at her in disbelief.

"If it hadn't been for you—"

She let out a startled gasp as I darted past her. I'd been in the manor plenty of times, but without the tell-tale signs of the trees around me, I was lost. Without Leto there to hold my hand and show me where to turn, I might as well have been blind.

However, when at last I did find my way to the quarters where I'd slept over on those rare occasions, I had no doubt that hours had passed.

Leto lay in a small bed shoved into a corner in the crowded barracks-like room. I vaulted over the empty beds, barely touching the floor until I was standing beside him. Almost instantly, I was relieved.

His chest rose and fell in shallow, quick breaths. His body was bandages almost from head to toe that I could see and one of his eyes was half swollen shut. While he might still live, he was doing so by a thread.

I heard a soft, stifled sob and looked to my side to see Varania sitting there. I hadn't even noticed her when I'd found Leto.

"He's not dead," I whispered.

Anger flushed her cheeks and she slapped me before I could react. I sat there, stunned. "He will be!" Tears were streaming down her face "Maybe not this time, but next time! You make him reckless!" As if to drive home her point, she shoved me. Again, I was too stunned to react properly. "It's your fault he's hurt!"

That dragon's roar echoed into my mind and drowned out the rest of her accusations.

You are alone.

Before, the reminders had always come from without, but this time...

I don't remember leaving the house, leaving Leto. I don't know if I went out a window or through a door. If I said anything to Varania or not.

When I came back to my senses, I was in the woods, a few sunbeams warming my skin as they poked holes through the canopy. They caressed me as the dragon's roar finally subsided.

I was where I was meant to be.

Alone.


	4. Chapter 4: Amnesia

_A/N: Thank you for reading and the reviews! If there's anything you feel I could do to improve the story, please don't hesitate to point it out. I can't promise that I'll agree, but I always take feedback into consideration :)_

…-…

Once again, I spent an immeasurable time alone, wandering the woods. My footfalls grew lighter, and I became faster until I could vault through the branches overhead without making so much as a single sound. If any leaves did rustle in my wake, the rogue human or elf below dismissed it as the wind.

Sometimes I could almost believe that I _was_ the wind.

I didn't seek companionship or conversation. In fact, it took a force outside of mortal hands to drive me into them again.

I had gone north still, and the rains had begun to carry an odd smell to them, as did the winds. The trees thinned out and the forest faded, but rather than follow its march of time to the east, I wanted to know what it was that was in the air.

My hair became stiff when whipped by the wind, and something bitter coated my skin.

After almost two days of walking—in which the rains had finally quieted, though the clouds overhead hung low and dark—I could see what looked to be the end of the world. There were no plains or trees beyond.

Mystified that I had found where they sky and land had been sewn together—the true horizon, if you will—I pushed myself past when I normally rested, daring to cross a simple road to see this marvel.

Not far on the other side, I was both disappointed and awed to find it was a cliff and not the literal edge of the world. However, beyond it was the largest body of water I'd ever seen. It rolled over itself and stretched on forever, disappearing into a haze that made it impossible to tell where it ended and the sky began. I looked up. Perhaps it was the sky?

Even as I mulled over the possibility, I took a step forward, unthinking.

The rocks were wet, and my foot slid out from under me. Used to compensating for error by moving forward, I shifted my weight and dove into the fall, realizing too late that of course there was nothing for me to hold on to. With a startled gasp that was stolen by the air around me, I plummeted down to meet the rolling waters.

My memories after are blurry. I think I must have fainted before hitting the water, for I don't remember it. I do remember seeing swirls of bubbles and froth around me for the blink of an eye, but then it was gone and I was alone in darkness.

There are other snippets that stayed with me. Dark, cruel whispers, claw-like fingers raking against me. They didn't pierce my flesh, but something more, something deeper. It was as though they were attacking the core of me instead of the fleshy outside. I remember trying to fight them off, desperately terrified that something terrible would happen should they win out.

And then I remember a dragon's roar and the quiet that followed.

When next I woke, I was sprawled out on a bed. I felt claustrophobic with the way the bed sheets were tucked around me and tried to wriggle out from under them. However, almost as soon as I moved, I felt ill and pains from various parts of my body exploded to life, vying for attention.

I stilled, closing my eyes and welcoming the darkness. It did not rise up to overwhelm me, however. Instead, I felt my pains begin to ebb, and my head cleared.

"You'll have to forgive me, my dear," a voice pierced the darkness. I went rigid. It was a man's voice, strong with a hint of an accent. "When I healed you first, it was to mend your more serious injuries. I forgot about the lesser ones."

I opened my eyes again and turned my head toward the side of the bed. The room I was in was huge, compared to most I had seen. And rather than being on a thin slab hardly wide enough for my thin frame, the blankets and pillows stretched out like that never ending lake.

That reminded me of my fall.

"The current swept you up by the dock while my master was fishing. You're lucky he has a hobby." The man laughed, and I turned to see an elf in richly colored robes beside me. "Otherwise you'd have drowned, I'm sure."

I tried to sit up again. This time I met no resistance. I was in a thin, soft dress that wasn't my own, and I frowned, realizing that my belt and satchel were gone as well. So too was my dagger. I reached up and felt my head. My brown hair was spilling over my shoulders, and I instantly forgot about the rest of my missing belongings. I looked at the man. "I had a hair tie."

"We can get you another—"

"No."

His eyes widened as he fell silent, and I felt my cheeks flush. The woman had impressed upon me often the importance of manners. "I mean…please. It is very important."

He seemed impressed with my turn around. "I will see if someone can retrieve it before it's disposed of." He rose and strode over to the door. He called for someone, whispered softly, and then I heard footsteps as he closed the door.

"Now then, I am Illen, apprentice to Magister Carrol Bernann." He paused. "You are?"

"Pleased to meet you," I tried to do a half curtsey from where I sat.

He blinked and then laughed. "I was asking for your name."

Silence overtook us. I tried to think of what to say. Should I give him Leto's name for me? Or perhaps the woman's? Or even Beatrice's? 'Foundling' sounded the least appropriate, and I dismissed that one.

Before I could decide between the other two, he reached out and patted one of my hands. "I'm sure it will come back to you."

Over the next few days, that sympathetic look punctuated his visits to a dizzying degree. Every time he asked a question I had no answer to, there it was.

Where was I from? Where was I born? Who were my parents? How old was I? Who was my master?

What was my name?

Amnesia was a term they used around me, and for a time I thought that might be my new name. Illen was impressed that I could read, and when he asked me about it, I told him the woman had taught me. He became excited and told me my memories were coming back. That the woman was my mother.

I was confused about when I had lost my memories, but trying to discuss that with him just left us both with headaches. In the end, it didn't seem a topic worth pursuing, as we just talked circles around one another.

However, it was nice to finally have a name for that woman, even if it did seem odd to define her.

Despite being healed, I was often exhausted. Illen had used magic to heal me, and he said that it drew power from me to work. The stronger the spell, the more it drained. I'd been near death, hence the exhaustion.

He thought it was odd how long it was taking me to get better.

The other elves—I rarely saw them—had bleached my ribbon, though it wasn't quite as pale as it had been.

I was often bored, sitting in that room, though I spent my time reading.

Illen was a man who worked on a true schedule. In the morning, he came by to check on me when the large hand pointed toward the seven and the long one toward a six. He would stay until the large hand hit the eight (the long one pointed straight up). Then he would come in the evening, when the large hand and long hand both pointed at the six.

I tried keeping track of it, and he tried to help me embrace the concept of time, but it didn't work well. Sometimes he would whisper in an odd tongue, only to be disappointed when I didn't reply.

The one thing I did learn was to associate Illen with the shadows. If the sun was beaming or completely gone, I was free. I began to pace the room when he was away, and I found that the more I moved—the more I was away from that bed—the better I felt. I scaled the bookshelves, swung from the rafters, and paced as I read books, ever expanding my knowledge. I even found strange symbols carved into the floor under the bed one night when a trinket I'd been playing with had rolled underneath it. From then on, I slept in a chair, only going to the bed when I knew Illen would be coming. He was oddly insistent that I stay at rest as much as possible.

Sometimes the things I read felt familiar, though I couldn't place from where.

The windows were locked, and so I often spent time wandering the halls, after I was bold enough to pick the lock on the door—the windows had some sort of magic on them, I was sure. I got so that I recognized the different paintings and doorways.

The one time I did encounter someone else in the halls, they frantically brought me to the magisters, who were not pleased to see me out of my room. Magister Carrol was kind when he spoke to me, but the look he gave Illen left the elf's pallor translucent. He took me back to my room and insisted I not leave unsupervised again. For a while after that, there was always someone just outside my door, and I could see their shadow move. Worse, they checked on me constantly to make sure I was in bed, and I started to feel ill again.

I had said good night to Illen and, feeling more sluggish than usual, slipped into my dreams.

When next I opened my eyes, the world was oddly sharp, yet hazy around the edges of my vision. There was an ethereal feel to the world that baffled me. Parts of the wall were missing, opening into a brilliant void beyond. I crawled out from under the sheets, stepping lightly across the earth that had replaced the carpet.

Beyond the wall, a narrow path of rock twisted away and through the gaping chasm. I walked the path easily, though I'd barely gone a few yards when a sudden sense of unease caught my attention. I turned and paused.

A creature stood behind me, made of flame and anger. It had been coming up behind me, but it seemed as soon as my gaze was upon it, it stopped.

The air itself formed into ice shards and collapsed upon the monster. With a raging scream, it faded from existence. A clucking noise came from behind me, and I turned back toward the way the path led.

"Mother?"

She cackled. "That is precious. Tell me. Where did you learn a word like that?"

"Illen taught me."

Her humor vanished. "Tell me of this Illen."

"He and his master saved me from drowning. They've been teaching me to read better."

"So you are staying in Tevinter?"

"Yes."

"Why would you go there? Do you not remember my warning?"

"I didn't want to break our deal and find you."

She laughed, though it echoed out eerily around us. "Do you remember when we first met? What you said you wanted?"

"To not be hurt," I replied. As I spoke, the void was filled with a gentle breeze and grass. Suddenly, we were back in that field where we'd first met.

"If you stay in that house, you will be."

"The windows are locked." We were back in my room. It felt so small after seeing that field again. "Illen is nice."

The world swirled around us, and we plunged through the floor, slipping into rooms I'd only peeked into during my wanderings. We slipped down further, through the building's foundation and stopped in a darkened room, beneath the earth.

I saw Illen standing over my body with Magister Carrol. I was laid out in the middle of a circle that looked similar to the one under my bed. Only this circle was made of pure liquid.

Blood.

I remembered Beatrice.

_She's breathing!_ Illen's voice echoed out. _It was a success_!

_But I sense no power in her_, his master sounded angry. _The demon should have settled in by now._

Both men watched me as I lay there, breathing softly. The human murmured a few words and a light shot through me, into the ground.

_It's gone. The demon is gone._

_Impossible_, Illen insisted. _We called upon it to heal her. There's no way—_

_Perhaps she is someone else's pet._

_That can't be. There were no reports of escaped slaves. Or missing ones._

"I'm…an experiment," the word was bitter, like salt.

"Yes."

"They will try again?"

"To let something possess you? Most likely, they already have." She frowned. "And I can't guard you ever time you dream."

I remembered the fuzzy memories of that dragon with her eyes who had fought demons to protect me. "I must leave then."

She seemed amused at the simple way I stated that fact. "Yes, you must."

"How do I get out?"

"You already are," her smile was genuine, albeit fleeting. "Be a dear. Get out of Tevinter."

I blinked and gasped as I was accosted with the cool night air. Somehow, I stood outside of the manor, beneath one o the trees I'd so longed to swing through during the duration of my time there.

I was still in my night gown, my hair tied back with that single ribbon. I felt my ribbon for the hole in one end and then darted toward the tree trunk. I nearly tripped over the hem of my skirt and scowled. Bunching it up, I tied a knot into it to keep it to one side, and then threw myself at the tree. I felt sluggish still, and the bark bit into my hands and feet.

The more I worked my muscles though, the better I felt. I heard something from the house and hunched low against the tree branch I was on. Illen had leaned out the window of one room. He looked happy, and it made me angry. He'd taught me so much…and all the while he'd been using me.

As much as I wanted to go back and confront him, I waited until someone called to him and he turned back inside to move.

I kept my course away from the house.


	5. Chapter 5: Little One

A/N: Thank you for reading! I must apologize for my last update. I put up the wrong document, so it was rather shoddy. I think I've fixed all the errors in it. Again, I'm very sorry about that.

It wasn't until I'd traveled along the coast a ways that I decided I needed to be more proactive. I needed to be the one to use people, not the other way around. Or, in the very least, I needed to establish a mutual usage.

Instead of hiding, I wandered up to a fisherman and asked if I could help, in exchange for one fish. The man was leery at first, but I proved to be more useful than he'd expected. I packed his wares in ice and helped him carry them to market. When we arrived, I asked for my fish.

The merchant eyed me and then dug into his pocket, pulling out a brown coin and flipping it through the air to me. "Don't spend it all in one place, rabbit."

I had never had money before.

I weighed the flat coin in my palm as I wandered off and perused the market, inspecting the different goods. Illen had exposed me to different things that I couldn't find in the wild, and so I could name most all of what I saw. There were cheeses and breads, wines and fine clothes.

Finally, I stopped in front of a vendor with large wheels of cheese in front of him. Holding out the coin, I smiled when he caught sight of me. "How much can I get for this?"

The man glanced down at the coin and scoffed. My smiled slipped as he looked away without a word. "Ser?"

"Get lost, knife-ear. I'm not a charity."

My skin crawled at the slur. "Is my money worthless?"

"Oh, the elf is clever, is she?"

With a scowl, I leaned toward him. "I worked all morning. This should be enough for something!"

"An elf works half a day and thinks they deserve the world," the man rolled his eyes.

Even as I considered arguing further, I realized how pointless it was and stalked off. My fascination with the market vanished, and I stormed down the street. Just as I slowed, thinking over where I might go for food—I hadn't eaten in several days— I felt a hand on my shoulder.

Whirling around, I blinked as I stared up at a man in shining armor that I knew too well. For a second, fear flickered through me, but then he held out half a loaf of bread.

"It might not be what you were hoping for, but perhaps this will help."

I blinked at him before slowly taking the bread. "Thank you."

He nodded. "You look like you're having about as rough a time here as I am and, well, you remind me of my daughter." He adjusted his gauntlet, tightening the buckle. "They're predicting rain today, so if you need a place to stay…"

"Why?" When he blinked, I eyed him. "Why help me?"

"I already told you," he sighed. "You remind me of my daughter."

Mother had warned me of the cruelty that hid in men's hearts, and I knew myself to be a poor judge of character. So I simply smiled thinly. "Thank you for the food, ser. But I'm already staying elsewhere."

"You are welcome, then." The man nodded to me in a half bow. Even as he came up, he was speaking. "My name is Ser Rory, if you need any help—"

I had already slipped down a side street and didn't hear the rest of his offer.

I spent that night huddled beneath an awning, thought at least I had something to eat. As I relished my meal, I eyed the coin. I just couldn't understand. I had seen people trade these things. They coveted them.

Yet somehow, it wasn't the same with this one. I couldn't shake the feeling that it was because it was mine. I flipped it through the air, nearly dropped it, and then tucked it into the ruffles of my night gown. I was still wearing that thing, dirty as it was, and it occurred to me that perhaps that was another reason people had eyed me oddly—the ones who even looked at me, that is.

Over the next few days, hungry as I was, I watched the people below me interact, staying up on the rooftops mostly. It was baffling the maze they wove with their words.

I was watching the world below from the edge of a roof when I heard an incredulous laugh and looked toward the next building to see the templar from before standing at one of the windows.

I watched him as he leaned against the sill, returning my gaze with one of curiosity. Amusement danced in his eyes as he pointed a worn, strong finger toward me. "How, pray tell, did you get up there?"

I shrugged.

He tilted his head. "Pardon my spying on your voyeurism, but you looked so confused."

"I don't understand them." I pointed down.

He nodded, letting his gaze wander downward as well. "Perhaps I can offer some insight?"

Over the next few days, we talked often. At first, it was only when it wasn't raining, but then, the man was so interesting that I took to sitting on his sill. He explained the concepts behind trading, and it seemed so pointless. Why waste time with coin?

He said it had to do with finding one's talents.

To demonstrate, he explained that he was good at tracking certain individuals and that he could trade that ability for work, as he apparently had been doing. The people who came to him were not the most trustworthy—even I could see that. Their eyes shifted constantly to every shadow in the room, yet somehow, if they were human, they didn't even seem to notice I was there.

Mostly.

There was an elf who came, however, who insisted I be gone before he stated his business. He didn't realize that I simply sat on the roof and listened with all the more interest. He was looking for a magister who had slighted him, taken his lover from him. The wench was supposedly using some type of spell to keep his lover enthralled.

Once I heard the door slam, I slipped back into the room, perching on the inside of the sill. Ser Rory was looking over a beautiful sketch that looked almost as though it would spring to life any second. He showed it to me, only to catch my hand when I tried to touch the paper.

"Let's not smudge the image."

I slouched back against the window's edge. "I've seen that man before."

Instantly, Ser Rory took interest. "You know him?"

"No," I shook my head. "I don't know anyone here. Except maybe you."

"But you've seen him?"

"That's what I said," I motioned over my shoulder. "Sometimes he and a woman come by the market. They never stay for long, but they're always about in the morning."

Ser Rory grew very quiet for so long that I almost thought he'd fallen asleep on his feet. I'd seen people do that before. "The next time you see them, could you come get me?"

"So you can find them?"

"I wouldn't want to confront them in the market, but if I could follow them back to where she's staying, perhaps I could…" He glanced down at his armor and then sighed. With a half smile, he reached out and patted my head. "I'm not sure why I'm bothering you with these details."

And with that the subject was dropped, despite my prodding. Each time I tried to bring it up, he would ask me a question about the trading practices he'd been teaching me, and I felt obligated to answer.

Finally, I gave up on it.

It was almost a full week before I saw that elf from the drawing again.

He and the lady magister were wandering the corner that I'd seen them at before. I followed them from the rooftops at first, but after they'd visited a few stalls, they slipped down a side alley that I couldn't peek into very well.

I knew that Ser Rory had wanted to know where they were going, what routes they took, and it seemed like the perfect opportunity to map them out. He'd been so kind to me, I figured that it would be alright to be his eyes, just this once.

I slipped down to the street and followed after them in the shadows. I was fairly good at moving unnoticed, or so I'd thought.

After a few twists and turns—it was surprisingly easy to remember streets, when I imagined them as giant, sprawling tree branches—I rounded a bend and let out a gasp as I collided with someone.

It was the elven man.

I heard a curse from somewhere beyond him. However, as the air bristled with heat, he held a hand out and then knelt in front of me. He had a kind smile as he reached out and patted my head. "Are you lost, little one?"

Words eluded me. I'd been caught. I was never caught. It had to be this damned dress. It was such a pain to sneak around in.

His dark eyes were filled with amusement as he stood up and offered me a hand. "Come, I'll take you home…" He trailed off, glancing over his shoulder. "Unless my lady has a problem with this?"

"Be home soon," a female voice snapped.

I couldn't believe my luck. This elf was going to let me lead him right to Ser Rory? I clamped my fingers around his as we walked back the way we'd come, not wanting to lose him. He mistook my actions as nervousness.

"You know, a little one like you ought not to wander on your own. The slavers will snatch you up and then your master will be quite put out."

"I don't have a master," I retorted before I could stop myself.

"Oh?" When I peered up, his eyebrows were arched far onto his forehead. Apparently the notion was bizarre. After a moment, he laughed. "All the more reason to be careful. You're lucky I'm one of the good guys."

I shrugged. "I'm hard to catch."

"If you say so, little one."

"I'm not that little."

He paused as we reached one of the main roads. The wind rustled our hair, and for a moment he seemed to consider my words. "You're what…ten, eleven?" I shrugged again, and he shook his head. "Too young to be alone, but too old to accept simple advice." He trailed off, glancing around the street and then back the way we'd come from. "I don't suppose you know the way home from here?"

I gripped his fingers tighter. When he frowned, I scrambled to think of something. I didn't want Ser Rory to be disappointed, and I couldn't explain why.

It was then that I realized that I was rather fond of the human. Tugging on my dress, I glanced down. "What about the slavers?"

He laughed again. It was such a friendly sound. "Which way then?"

As we turned down the street, heading toward the inn where Ser Rory stayed, I glanced up at the sky. All I could tell was that it was day. The sun wasn't high enough to be seen yet, so it was still morning. I felt a small swell of pride that I could discern that much, though a small voice in the back of my mind whispered that time was meaningless to me.

I'd been lost in thought, only keeping aware enough to allow a bit of idle chatter between us while we walked, when I heard a faint clink of metal. Somehow, I knew before I even glanced in that direction. The guards wore metal, too, but it was mixed with leathers and that muffled the clinking ever so faintly. This was a purer noise, made from thinner metal scraping against itself.

Ser Rory had found us.

For an instant, I wasn't sure what I should do. I thought to look for him, but stopped myself. Mother had taught me a long time ago that if people wanted themselves known, they would step forward themselves.

As we went the last few streets, I heard the metal of his shiny armor clakking together every so often, though he never caught up to us. The elf escorting me heard it as well. Once, as I answered some trite question of his, I heard that familiar sound, and my guide's ears twitched. I pretended not to notice.

When we reached the inn, he barely even stopped long enough to make sure I would be alright, instead patting my head and wishing me well. I tried to ask him to stay a moment, but he simply smiled and shook his head, "I'll be scolded enough as it is. Tell whoever watches you to do a better job, hmm?"

And like that, he was gone, disappeared back into the crowd.

At first, I was distraught. I'd had him. We could have gotten the other elf and reunited them here, but he was gone.

Then I realized that I couldn't hear Ser Rory's armor anymore. That made me feel a little better. Perhaps all wasn't lost at all. I slipped around back of the building and climbed my way up to the rooftops.

Though I surveyed the streets, I didn't find either of them and finally went back to the Templar's room to wait for him to return.

He was gone for almost three days.

When he finally did come back, I'd been half expecting the one opening the door to be the innkeeper, there to evict me and toss any belongings that weren't part of the room into the street for the beggars to scavenge. I'd been learning a lot about how fleeting ownership of items was in the world of men.

However, even as I stepped onto the windowsill, ready to make a quick escape, I heard a familiar, friendly laugh and stopped. Ser Rory shook his head as he closed the door and trotted into the room.

"You, miss, are a miracle worker, you know that?" He held his arms out to me. "Andraste herself must have sent you."

I didn't reply, though I did hop down to sit more comfortably. After a moment, I tilted my head. "So they were reunited?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. That they were," Ser Rory nodded. He let his arms drop to his sides and considered something for a moment before his face lit up, and he rummaged through a satchel on his hip. After a moment, he produced a few silvery coins and held them out to me. "Here. It's only fitting we split the reward."

"I don't want them," I said, glaring at the little coins. I wasn't about to go through that whole embarrassing debacle again.

"These are worth more than the one you had before."

I thought back to the man from the cheese stall. "I don't care."

Ser Rory eyed me for a moment before slowing lowering his hand again. He drummed his plated fingers against his hip. Each tap made one of those soft clanging noises. "How is this, then?" He walked over and took a seat next to the window, though he made no attempt to draw me further into the room. "Tomorrow, I'll take you shopping." He hesitated when I scrunched my face up. "I think we can both agree that you could use a new outfit, hmm?"

It took me a moment to realize that he was offering to settle the score. Clothes in exchange for me helping him with his job. I started to object, but then thought back to Beatrice and Illen. When were trades ever fair?

With a short nod, I lightly drummed my heels against the wall, my feet swinging back and forth. "Deal."


	6. Chapter 6: Thief

_A/N: Sorry to take so long to update this fic! I'm juggling about five stories at the moment, and this one was unintentionally neglected._

…-…

It's funny how things can turn around. I went from being a bedraggled looking little cast off to…well…being invisible. In a good way.

Before, people ignored me because I looked like a wretch, like some scrawny beggar who would do little more than leech off of them. I was a reminder of the poverty-ridden lower class, and people turned a blind eye because I was not something they wanted on their consciences.

After Ser Jensen bought me new clothes and helped me look more presentable, however, it changed. Suddenly I wasn't being ignored because I something they detested. Instead, it was because I chose not to be seen. I no longer stuck out as a poor wretch, instead blending in with many of the elven servants who scurried about the streets. I became one of the better off, nameless drones.

And that worked perfectly for me.

People were more willing to talk to me if they thought I could—well, my supposed master could—afford their wares. Suddenly I was privy to gossip and tales.

I was worth having around and, better yet, still easily forgotten.

My clothes were rather plain, like many servants. They fit me well—they were a little loose, but that was for growing room, and they could be tightened with a few buckles and clasps to help them fit for now—and were all shades of black and gray. It helped me blend into the shadows when I was on the job.

You see, after that first search that I helped Ser Jensen with, we struck an arrangement. He would take on jobs that normally he would have had to pass up. Then I would find the person in question and bring back information on where he could find them.

We didn't travel together in public. According to Mr. Jensen, my kind—elves—were practically invisible to most people—as I'd already noticed—but I wouldn't stay that way for long if I came to be known as the elf who hung around the templar.

So we operated carefully, with me spying on different people as a nameless face in the crowd, forgotten before a human's eyes had even been taken off of me. I would track down people that needed to be found—or sometimes just items. I preferred the items, really. Something about hunting for another person made me uneasy.

But anyway. I would locate whatever we needed to find and then I would tell Ser Jensen, and he would disappear for the night or even a day or so. When he came back, we'd have a little feast in his room and discuss what job to take next.

It was a pretty good set up.

However, there were thugs in the city and, despite my swiftness, I asked Ser Jensen if I could carry a knife, just for defense. He hadn't liked the thought of that.

No, I was to remain unarmed.

As far as he knew.

You see, without really intending to, I started taking little commissions of my own. While the humans always went to him with their requests, elves started coming to me.

At first, it was the elf who had wanted to find his lover—the one I'd first found. He had come to me and explained that his friend had lost some valuable items and needed them back. His friend had been highly skeptical that I could honestly be of any use, young as I was.

When I turned up on his doorstep the next day with his wares, he was impressed. And he offered me a reward. I wouldn't take any coins, since I still didn't trust them. I still had my lonely copper one, and didn't feel like jingling all over the place as I walked.

So instead, he gave me a small pouch for herbs, and his word that he would tell his friends about my abilities.

From there, I became the elves' go-to tracker.

It was fortunate that this first elf chose not to rat me out to the magisters, and for that, I'll always be grateful. From there, I was just always the elven girl a friend had known.

Trinkets, wallets, family heirlooms. I found them and brought them back. And they repaid me with all sorts of things. I managed to get a few different daggers, as well as a belt for various pouches, different herbs—some which could be used to help escape a tricky situation.

I kept my belongings in different hideaways throughout the city, not wanting Ser Jensen to know that I did have my weapons after all.

Sometimes I felt like I was being mean, tricking him like that, but I knew he was keeping things from me, as well, like why he was in the Tevinter Imperium to begin with. Whenever the subject came up, he would get into a fickle mood and wouldn't talk to me for the rest of the day.

So I left it be and considered it a trade for my secret about my knives.

I have to say, I'd grown very proud of our team. We were standing together in a swirling chaos, helping the city to return to its order with one lost person or item at a time.

Or at least, I thought we were.

It was an evening after I'd sent word to Ser Jensen about the latest magister we were trying to find, and I hadn't much to do, so I took to the rooftops. I was getting better and better at moving across them even quieter than before.

This city was becoming my new forest. I knew the streets, I knew the buildings, I even knew many of the people without ever having met them. The man who had given me my coin lived a few streets from where Ser Jensen stayed. He woke up every morning before the sun was up, and worked long hours, catching fish and selling them. Many of the other humans looked down on him and treated him poorly, though I couldn't quite sympathize. He was being treated the way he treated others.

There were others, of course, and I enjoyed watching them from my high perches, especially the ones I had helped. They always seemed so much happier after I'd assisted them.

I was making my rounds when I saw an elven man I had assisted earlier in the week. His mother's earrings had been stolen, and I had been happy to retrieve them from the cruel shemlen who had taken them.

As I dropped down into the alley near his home, I listened, thinking that perhaps he would bring them up. Sure enough, he did.

"I tell you, if you want something, you've got to look up the little elf that wanders around the streets. She can typically be found around the market in the mornings."

"Oh, where's she from?" his friend asked.

"No one knows, and honestly, I couldn't care less. She's the best little thief this side of Minrathos, though."

I frowned. I knew that term, though I couldn't see how it applied to me. I'd never stolen anything.

"All you have to do is tell her you need something, and it's yours."

Without waiting, I slipped back up to the roof. I didn't go far, though. I sat there, on the shingles, wondering how many of the people I'd helped had actually been legitimately wronged. It had never occurred to me, somehow, that people would lie about such things.

It bothered me.

He had given me a my latest dagger in exchange for those earrings. I pulled it out of its hiding place—a sheath on the inside of my calf—and inspected it. Was this even his to give?

As the lights began to go out across the city, I knew what I had to do.

I waited until his friend had gone, and he'd drifted off to bed. Then, I slipped into his room and looked through his belongings. Once or twice, one of his drawers made a dull thud as it slid open, but he was a fairly heavy sleeper. The earrings I'd gotten him weren't there.

Irate, I slipped back out. Ser Jensen was still away finishing our latest job, so I had no one to talk to. Instead, I hung around the lying elf's home until morning. When he left his house, I followed him, slipping through the shadows, flitting behind stalls, my usual habits when I didn't want to find work.

His day was unbelievably droll, and I began to think he must have sold them, when he finally came to one of the better known magisters' houses. He slipped in the back door, and I followed. It was so easy for me to navigate hallways now. A few months ago I would have been hopelessly lost. But now…now I could stick to my target like a shadow, no matter where they went.

I followed him into the servants corridors and found him with an elven lady. They were rather engrossed with one another's company, and I was quite embarrassed to have stumbled across them.

However, even as I turned away, I noticed a glimmer of gold on the stand next to her bed.

She had the earrings!

I chose to wander the house as I waited for them to fall asleep… I slipped behind curtains and under beds when people threatened to see me, but as the hours ticked by, I decided that I'd done enough waiting and doubled back. Fortunately, they were asleep by the time I made my way back to the room they'd been in. They were wrapped in each others' arms and snoring.

I slipped up to the desk beside their bed and lightly took the earrings, leaving in their place the dagger I'd been given. Even as I pulled my hand back, I heard the floorboard creak behind me.

Whirling around, I saw a little elven child wandering down the rows of beds, heading to sleep. They were too tired to have noticed me, and I slipped out after I saw them curl up in their bed with their siblings.

For an instant, it took me back to when I'd played with Leto, and I wondered how he faired these days.

It broke my heart as I realized that, even if I wanted to, I wouldn't know how to get back to him now.

~"~

Over the next few days, I spent a lot of time backtracking. Every trinket I'd earned was brought under scrutiny. I learned more about the jobs I'd done, and, as I found the ones that had been done for ill intents, I righted them. I returned the taken items and the prizes for stealing them.

It took me over a week, and during that time I made myself scarce so that no one would be able to interfere with my work. When I was finally done, I realized that I hadn't checked in with Ser Jensen in days.

He was a wreck when I stopped by his window that night. He hugged me and squished me against his armor the second I was on the sill. I'd never realized that he could move so fast. All those times I'd assumed I was too fast for him….

When he finally let me go, he chastised me forever, insisting that I not go missing like that again. After I irritably pointed out that he would be fine without me in his jobs—they just might take a little longer—he grew serious and sat down on the edge of his bed.

"I told you once that you remind me of my daughter," he murmured, running his fingers through his graying hair. "She disappeared on me, too." He looked so…small as he spoke. "She was tempted by a monster, and I lost her forever."

That was the night that Ser Jensen finally told me his secrets.

He spoke of mages and demons, of magic and all its dangers. His daughter, he said, had been taken when a demon possessed a mage. Ever since, he'd been hunting the man, seeking his vengeance. He'd even come all the way to Minrathos, trying to find the man who had killed his daughter. This was a land which loathed templars, and yet he endured their hatred so that he might one day bring his daughter justice.

It broke my heart to hear him speak about her, the way his voice wavered. I had always thought of him as being so strong, and yet here he was, words making him crumble to pieces.

Without thinking, I promised him that I wouldn't make him worry again.

He patted my head and told me that I ought to get some sleep. We would go back to work in the morning.


	7. Chapter 7: Harbinger

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reads, and to those who give feedback! It is very much appreciated :)

…-…

On one of the evenings where Ser Jensen was off tending to business, and I had nothing to find and no one to vet, I found myself relaxing in his room, watching the rain pitter patter down. It was so melodic and soothing.

It reminded me of dragons.

It didn't bring that roar to mind—that was always there, a lonely echo I couldn't understand.

Instead, it reminded me of dragons playing, hopping on large rocks, flapping their great wings, snapping at one another playfully as their large claws left indents and gashes in the earth beneath them. Nothing violent, just the damage of being large and strong.

I had had these daydreams before, starting shortly after my time with Leto, as he had introduced me to the legends of the scaly beasts.

Ser Jensen was the only one I'd ever mentioned them to, though. When I had told him, he'd been angry and told me that I shouldn't romanticize dragons. They were dangerous creatures who ate little elves like me without a second thought.

Even so, I imagined that they occasionally enjoyed themselves. Everything did.

And so I listened to the rain and pretended it was dragons.

I nodded off, imagining the sleek forms of drakes as I envisioned them racing through the trees, bounding off trunks, playing and moving through the forest, much as I had once done.

I think my dreams turned to them because of the rain, but in my sleep, I relived my adventures, not as myself, but as a great, strong beast. Nothing dared hurt me. Nothing dared meet my gaze.

I was free.

In my dreams, I came to the cliff at the coast. This time, instead of falling, I launched myself into the air, effortlessly beating my great wings. The wind wrapped itself around me, and there was no better feeling in the world.

I heard a noise. Human voices.

They praised my wings and claws, my form. But then their words turned harsh. They threw swords at me, screaming that I had ruined them. The swords rained down on my, slicing my legs, sending thousands of shooting pains through me.

The voices became louder.

My wings gave out, and I fell.

I jolted awake to find the pinpricks of numbness in my legs, having fallen asleep at an awkward angle in my chair. Two men were still arguing outside in the hall, though the innkeeper had joined the fray, threatening to evict them.

I shifted in my seat, frowning. They'd ruined my dreams. As much as I wanted to try to go back, to feel the wind around me—I'd been in the city too long—I was afraid that the dream would pick up where it left off. I didn't want to fall or to be captured by the angry humans.

So instead, I took to pacing the room, trying to think of something to do. I was half of a mind to just leave. To find my way back to the wild woods and see if I couldn't sprout some wings and fly.

But I couldn't leave Ser Jensen. He was my friend, and his work depended on me.

My mind was still so cluttered that I decided reading something would help. Except Ser Jensen only had books that taught about the Maker. I wasn't sure why, but I didn't like him much. He seemed too rigid, too averse to change.

Perhaps I'd just read the bad parts of the chant. After all, Ser Jensen always said the Maker was loving.

Desperate as I was to throw myself into something to shake that irrational fear of my dreams, I trotted over to where he kept his books. I rummaged through the bags, yet even as I did so, I noticed a folded piece of paper all the way at the bottom of the satchel.

I pulled it out and eyed it. It was wrinkled, and I could tell it had been opened and refolded many, many times.

When I opened it, I found myself staring at a long list of names.

I recognized some from jobs where I had been required to track them down. Those names had lines through them. Most of the names had lines through them, actually, with only four left.

The name at the top of the list had been written larger than the others, and notes had been written next to the others, denoting jobs and how the people in question knew the first name, or I at least assumed. I committed the names that had yet to be crossed out to memory before folding the paper back and putting it away. Suddenly, I didn't feel like reading.

Once Ser Jensen returned, I quickly forgot about the list as we fell back into our routine. We'd gone through a few more jobs before one of the four names came up, reminding me of the odd list. I was to find this man, Magister Jonathan Draxen. The note next to his name had only said 'colleague' and 'assisted'.

I wondered if it had something to do with his daughter's death.

I wasn't sure why the list bothered me as much as it did. Perhaps it was because it meant that Ser Jensen was working on a specific goal that he hadn't bothered to clue me in on.

Thinking that perhaps he just needed a little prompting, I asked him who the job was for.

Ser Jensen stilled. It wasn't even for a full second, but he had. Then, even as I debated his strange behavior, he shrugged and told me it was for some client. The usual.

There was a strange pit in my stomach, but I told him I'd find where the man lived and hurried off. As I sought the magister, I tried not to think. Something was off. Something terrible.

Tracking down the magister took a bit of effort, though, forcing everything else from my mind did make the process quicker. I was so desperate for things to be normal, that I paid more attention, throwing myself into my tracking even more so than usual.

When I did find him, I followed him longer than I usually did. I spent almost a week longer than I normally did learning people's patterns and the best places for them to be approached.

He'd been reading by a window for some time one evening, as he did every night, when he abruptly got up and headed further into the room. I waited a moment. He typically stayed beside the window until the last of the sun's light had disappeared. When I was certain he wasn't coming back to the window, I slipped up to it, peering in. I'd barely looked in when I found myself eye to glowing eye with…

Something.

I didn't think it was a demon, as I remembered the one I'd seen before had been on fire. But then, who was to say that demons didn't come in all kinds of shapes and types? This creature looked like shadows had pooled together to imitate the form of a man.

Before I could react, it had dragged me through the window and into the room. It was surprisingly strong. As I struggled to break free, I heard a throat clear.

I stilled.

Magister Draxen was seated near a table, a glass of wine held lightly in one hand. He took a sip, never taking his eyes off me. Then, abruptly, he set the glass down and clasped his hands in his lap.

"Forgive me, my little elf, but I'd always expected the harbinger of my demise to be a bit…bigger."

I blinked at him dumbly. I let my arms go limp in the creature's grasp.

The magister eyed me critically, not moving from his seat. "You don't seem…magical. And you're far too young, and too elven, to have been trained as a templar." He finally rose, pacing slowly toward me. "Why have you come for me?"

I had rarely interacted with my targets before. I shifted a little. "Someone's looking for you."

He narrowed his eyes. "Who?"

"I," I frowned. "I don't know."

"Who hired you?"

"I don't know." It was such a common phrase to come off my lips.

"Is there anything you do know?" he sneered, leaning down to glare into my eyes. When I didn't reply, he muttered something under his breath.

I fidgeted. "Ser Jensen didn't say—"

"Ser Jensen?" The man straightened up abruptly. "You work for the templar, then?"

I was supposed to say no, if anyone asked. However, my lips moved, unbidden, and I found myself unable to stop talking. "We find things and people."

For a breath, the man seemed puzzled. Then, he took a few steps back, appraising me in a new light. "How does it work?"

"I find them, and Ser Jensen takes them home."

"Why can't you take them home?"

"Ser Jensen says people won't listen to an elf. And some of the people we find are dangerous."

Shadows danced around the magister's fingertips before he let them dissipate. "I suppose that's true, to an extent." He motioned to me. "So you find them, he kills them."

"No!" I gasped.

The man cocked his head, genuinely surprised by my outburst. "Have you ever seen the people you find after you tell Ser Jensen where they are?"

"I see plenty of them," I said, defensive. I didn't like what he was insinuating.

"Did you help with…Magister Embry?"

I thought back. "Yes."

"Have you seen him since?"

I started to say that of course I'd seen him, but stopped myself. I wracked my brain, trying to remember. "I don't…think I have."

"What of Magister Addelstrath? Apprentice Kay? Apprentice Dorrell?"

I shivered. I hadn't seen any of them since I'd found them for Ser Jensen. But it was a big city. Surely, it wasn't because…

"Enough!" A woman's voice interrupted the magister as he threw more names at me.

I'd been so rattled, I hadn't heard the door to his study open. Had it ever been closed? Two other magisters stood in the doorway, in dark cloaks. The woman looked familiar, though I was sure I'd never met her before.

She had mouse brown hair that fell over her shoulders, stopping just short of her collarbone, and pretty green eyes. Her nose was a little crooked, like it'd been broken before, but it was still pretty.

She walked quietly and quickly over to me, a staff in one hand. In an easy motion, she swung it toward me. I cringed, though it never hit. Instead, I heard a whooshing noise and suddenly my arms were free.

Instinctively, I darted away from her, only for another of the shadow creatures to manifest in front of the window, blocking my only exit.

The woman waited patiently where she was, stopping only to glare at Magister Draxen. When she looked back at me, her expression was softer. "Listen to me, rabbit." I hated the term almost as much as knife-ear, but she seemed to think she was being kind, so I listened, waiting for an opening to get out of there. "The templar you're working with…you're not just helping him find people."

"Yes, I am," I insisted. "I've talked to them! The baker's daughter was lost, and I found her. Magister Dondin's wife, Lady Seriph's servant! We brought them home!"

All three magisters seemed taken aback by the desperation in my voice. So was I. I'd known something was wrong, but this…this couldn't be it. It couldn't. Ser Jensen was kind.

After a moment, the woman spoke again. "Perhaps you do help some, but…the names my colleague mentioned? They're all dead."

I felt cold. "Liar."

"Ser Jensen killed them," she whispered. As I shook my head, she put her hand over her heart. "He blames them for taking me from him. Like my magic is their fault. "

I edged back a step. "Why would he care about you?"

"Because I'm his daughter."

_Liar_. The word didn't even make it to my lips. It finally made sense. She looked familiar because she looked like him. "He said you died."

"I know," she murmured. "He said the same thing to me when he found out I had magic."

The third magister stepped up to her, resting his hands on her shoulders. She looked like she might cry. As she leaned her head against him, he looked at me. "We want to talk to Ser Jensen. The Chantry won't believe us if we say a rogue templar is killing magisters, so we have to be careful how we go after him. If you could help us prove that it's been him, without resorting to magic—"

"You'll hurt him," I whispered. He couldn't have killed anyone. He was so kind.

"He murdered our friends. Our family," the first magister hissed. "And why? Because we gave his daughter a better life! A life where she wouldn't be persecuted!"

The woman reached out and stayed his hand when he looked ready to cast a spell. "She didn't know what she was doing."

"The way you defend that knife-ear is—" Magister Draxen cut himself off when she glared his way again. "He wouldn't have gotten as many of us as he did without his little spy."

"Let her go," the last magister said. I had a feeling he had been the top name. In my panic, I couldn't even remember it. He looked at me sternly. "But know this: if you help Ser Jensen again, we'll come for you."

"We might as well just get rid of him!" Magister Draxen argued. "Get rid of them both! We'll make it look like he angered some random magister and…"

I was already racing across the rooftops, desperate to put some distance between myself and the three. Surely they'd been lying. Ser Jensen said that was what mages did. Magic corrupted them.

Beatrice had been corrupted.

And mother…she'd admitted she wasn't good.

Master Illen had been bad, too…

Even so, I couldn't shake the feeling that they'd been telling the truth.

Before I knew it, I was back on the roof beside the inn. A few steps forward and I'd be able to see into the room that had become my home.

As I lifted my foot, I felt something watching me from the shadows behind me. I'm not sure how, but I knew what it was. I'd led one of the magister's pets right to Ser Jensen. Perhaps that was why they'd let me go to begin with.

That dragon's roar echoed in my ears.

However, something overcame me. I rejected that constant reminder that I was meant to be alone. "Let me talk to him before you tell your masters you found him," I whispered. There was no response.

Without looking back, I hopped down onto the windowsill.

Ser Jensen had been sitting at his desk, writing, when I knocked on the sill. He smiled broadly at me, already going for his city maps. "You found him, then? I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost."

"Do you kill them?"

Ser Jensen froze, like he had when I'd asked who had wanted this magister found. Again, in a second it had passed. "Kill who?"

"The names on your list."

He stared at me for a long, long moment, and then shook his head slowly. He took a step toward me and then stopped. "I do the Maker's work."

"His work is to kill them?"

"His work is to cleanse sin from this world. That is what I do."

"I met your daughter."

To that, he had no answer at first.

Then, he shuddered. "My Emille is dead."

"She's not. I spoke with—"

"You spoke with the demon who took her!" He hissed. He moved toward me quickly, though I'd been ready for this, dreading it. I was back on the windowsill in a breath and he stopped. "You let them talk to you, didn't you?"

I tensed.

"Their words are poison! You can't let them speak to you! The demons will say anything! They—" His eyes had grown wider with every accusation and when they locked on me, I felt like I'd been frozen in place. He drew his blade. "They didn't…they got to you, didn't they?"

In a flash, he lunged for me. I was faster, albeit barely. I bolted out the window, the clang of the sword echoing in my ears and a sharp pain shooting through my leg. I gripped the far awning, dangling from the next building, too stunned to pull myself up.

"I'm sorry," I heard Ser Jensen's voice. "I'm sorry. Come back inside. Tell me what they said."

I didn't move until I heard the sound of his armor scraping against the windowsill. Snapping out of my stupor, I hauled myself up onto the roof. I glanced back only once.

The Ser Jensen I knew was gone, replaced by a wild eyed creature that looked just like him. Perhaps that was the demon he'd seen in his daughter. Not something of the fade, but merely the human mind.

She had shown him a new side to her, and he hadn't been able to accept it.

I felt a swell of pity in my chest. I understood him, at least a little. He'd shown me his real self, and it was something I couldn't accept, either. Gone was the heartbroken father, and in his stead was a monster.

Turning my back to him, I ignored as he pleaded with me, limping away. I stopped when I saw one of those shadowy creatures waiting patiently on the roof a few feet to my side. For a moment, I wanted to defend Ser Jensen, to beg it not to tell its masters where to find the templar.

But then it occurred to me that he had used me. He'd used my gratitude for his kindness to murder.

My mouth had been open to defend him, but I stopped myself.

I thought back to our talks, to his lectures about good and evil. About the Maker.

If one was really doing his Maker's bidding, then he would be delivered through anything, he'd said once.

As I limped past the creature, others swirled up from the shadows. I could barely hear the swishes they made as they swept past.

What I did hear, what I couldn't outrun fast enough, were Ser Jensen's screams when they reached him.

I was too exhausted and hurt to turn around.

Let the monsters deal with one another.


End file.
